


International Typos

by LacePendragon



Category: RWBY
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Humour, M/M, Wedding Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-13 21:40:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16480247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LacePendragon/pseuds/LacePendragon
Summary: James signs the wrong name on a statement aired on international news. Between correction statements and Qrow’s laughter, it all works out.





	International Typos

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written March 20th, 2016. Reposted October 31st, 2018. Happy Halloween.

James traced the letters in his day planner app on his scroll with his tablet pen absently. Trailed the capital ‘B’ into the lowercase ‘r’ and onward through the rest of the word. He should have been finishing off his public statement for the Atlas News that night. He’d recently released a new series of robots, these ones shaped like dogs, out into the city. Their purpose was to help people home, break up muggings, find lost children, and do other things that his other soldiers often frightened people too much to do effectively.

Of course, all he really needed to do was finish rereading it for the third time and sign it off, but he was still putting it off. James traced the two words again, a soft smile on his face. His mind drifted to the plan he had for those two words. To the box, the evening, the speech. Everything he’d been planning for almost three weeks now.

A sigh slipped from his lips, soft and warm with affection. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he traced the letters again.

There was a knock on his door and James abruptly closed the app and straightened up. He could feel the tips of his ears and the back of his neck heating. He cleared his throat.

“Come in,” he called.

The door opened and Winter stepped in. She tucked her arms behind her back and nodded to him.

“The reporters are here, they’d like to collect your written statement,” said Winter.

James nodded and pulled up the speech on his scroll again. He gave the last few sentences one last glance and signed off it. Sent the file to Winter, who checked her scroll and nodded.

“I’ll go give it to them,” said Winter. “Good night, General.”

“Good night, Winter. Have a good evening,” said James. She straightened a bit at that, a small smile on her face as she left the room.

James packed up his own things and headed home to his apartment. Qrow was there tonight, between jobs with Ozpin. He’d taken to spending all his time in Atlas whenever he wasn’t gallivanting across Remnant. Secretly, James was rather pleased. And not so secretly as well. He’d mentioned it, offhandedly, to one of his staff that he had someone to go home to every night and the other man had gone “that’s wonderful, General,” before going to teach his own class. James had been a little puffed up with pride after that.

When James got home, Qrow was in the kitchen, singing show tunes and cooking dinner. James couldn’t help the soft laugh he gave. Show tunes, really? Well, whatever made Qrow happy.

He kicked off his shoes and greatcoat and padded into the kitchen. Qrow looked up when he came in, but didn’t move from the stove. It smelled like Qrow’s famous chilli, all warm spices and tomatoes. Smiling, James slipped his arms around Qrow’s waist and rested his chin on Qrow’s shoulder.

“Someone’s happy,” said Qrow.

James kissed Qrow’s cheek and hummed. “It was a good day,” he said. “Everything is done, I don’t have any work to take home…” He trailed off, sliding his hands under Qrow’s sweater and nipping his ear lightly.

“Let’s not set the kitchen on fire,” said Qrow, a laugh in his voice. He leaned back into James’ touch, setting down the spoon he was using to stir the chilli. “Don’t you have a news thing tonight?”

James hummed again. “I do,” he said, pressing a kiss to Qrow’s jaw. “We should watch it.” And then, afterward, James had a plan. A plan that involved the balcony and a few key words.

“You never sound like _you_ in them,” grumbled Qrow.

“Hopefully that’ll change after tonight,” said James. “I’m trying to be more honest with the people of Atlas. I only hope it shows.”

Qrow snapped off the oven and turned in James’ arms, winding his own around James’ neck. He drew them together for a soft kiss.

“Good,” said Qrow. “Now help me finish dinner so we can watch it.”

James set to work on finishing the bread Qrow had been making while Qrow finished the chilli. Once their dinners were in hand, the two headed into the living room to watch the news. Qrow always ate faster than James, and ended up on the floor, leaning against James’ legs, head in James’ lap, while they waited for the statement.

“ _And our final story for tonight comes in the form of a statement,”_ said the news reporter. She read off her scroll, glasses sliding down her nose. _“‘It is with great pride and security that I announce that the K-9 units will remain in Atlas. Their specialized bodies and personality chips have created a safety net for the younger members of our kingdom, and I am proud to say that they have a 0% failure and injury rate. It is my hope that the K-9 units will become a symbol of the peace and unity of what the Atlesian robotic army is supposed to be.’_ _This statement was released today by General James Branwen who…_ ”

James froze, the last words blurring out beyond the roaring in his ears. He saw the reporter falter when she read his last name on the statement.

_Oh no._

“Branwen?” echoed Qrow below him. He leaned back to stare at James. “James Branwen? What’s going on, Jim?” The soft confusion in Qrow’s voice, mixed with the genuine concern in Qrow’s expression kept James from panicking too badly.

“I, uh, well,” James forced out. “You see…”

Qrow clambered off the floor and dropped onto the couch next to James. His head still cocked and his eyes still narrowed.

“James?” And oh, Qrow almost never called him by his actual first name. He must have really messed up this time.

“Uh,” said James. He could feel his throat starting to close up. Feel the cold chill of panic seeping down his spine until his entire body began to shiver. “Well.”

Qrow took his metal hand into one of his own, lacing their fingers together. He used his other hand to turn James toward him.

“Hey,” said Qrow. “Breathe, all right? I’m not mad. A little amused, but not mad.” Qrow tipped his head to one side. “Were you… planning to propose to me like that?”

James swallowed hard with what little spit he had. “No,” he managed, voice tight. “No, I, uh, I miswrote.” He wasn’t going to say anything else, but he caught the disappointed slump in Qrow’s shoulders.

“Oh,” said Qrow, not looking at him.

“I had a speech,” said James. “For later tonight.” The words all came out in a rush. “I was going to take you out onto the balcony at midnight, because they’re cycling the electrical systems tonight. We would have been able to see all the stars for a few minutes. I was going to make this grand speech about vision and how you gave me my insight back.” He stumbled. “And how I didn’t know what I would do without you. Then…” He swallowed. “Then I was going to get down on one knee and propose.”

Qrow was silent for a few seconds, his red gaze wide and shocked at James. Then, a soft laugh slipped from his throat. “You idiot,” said Qrow, voice fond. “You’ve been writing your name as James Branwen like some lovesick teenager, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” admitted James, softly. “For a few weeks now, while I planned this.”

Qrow laughed and cupped James’ face with his free hand, tightening his hold on James’ metal hand with his other. He tugged the man down for a kiss, humming slightly.

“Yes,” said Qrow when they pulled back.

“What?”

“If you were proposing,” said Qrow. “The answer is yes.” James grinned and kissed him again. Rested their foreheads together and couldn’t keep the smile off his face.

He laughed, soft. “Good, because I was,” said James. “The ring’s in my end table.”

“Silver?” asked Qrow, looking hopeful.

“Of course,” said James lightly. He swallowed hard. “I really did mean to propose properly.”

“I believe you,” said Qrow, climbing into James’ lap and snuggling in close. He laughed against James’ throat. “You’re too meticulous not to.”

There was a long moment of comfortable silence. James rested his cheek on Qrow’s head, which was rested on his shoulder.

Then, “James Branwen, huh?” said Qrow, grinning. “How am I supposed to make jokes about your iron wood?”

James snorted. “You would focus on that part,” he mumbled. Then something dawned on him. “Oh no.”

Qrow lifted his head to squint at him. “What?”

“The statement,” breathed James, eyes going wide. “I have to issue a corrective statement.” He scrambled to his feet, carefully sliding Qrow off his lap and onto the couch, and dug his scroll out of his coat by the door.

Tapped Winter’s contact information and waited for her to pick up.

_“General!”_ came Winter’s voice. _“Are you… married?”_

James looked over his shoulder to where Qrow was half sprawled on the couch, looking rather disgruntled. He felt something loosen in his chest, despite his worry about the statement, it had all worked out. Qrow had said yes. Even if his plan had fallen through, he’d said yes.

“Not yet,” said James, drily. “Though I’m working on rectifying that. I signed the wrong name on the statement and need to get a corrective one out as soon as possible. Mind lending me an ear?”

_“Of course not, sir,”_ said Winter. _“What do you need?”_

James padded into his and Qrow’s bedroom as he spoke to Winter, working out the details of the statement as he went. He’d release a corrective post tonight on Chirper and ensure that a full statement was released with tomorrow’s evening news.

In the background, he could hear Qrow calling up Taiyang in Vale and giving an enthusiastic “Tai Tai, guess what!”

James caught himself smiling in his reflection in the scroll.

* * *

 

James worked from home the next day – and not _completely_ because he wanted to avoid the questions and looks his mistake and corrective Chirper message would get. He had some work to do at home. Besides, he liked spending his mornings at home curled up on the couch with his scroll, working away while he sipped his coffee, still in pyjamas and Qrow against his side, half asleep.

He spent most of the day like that, working on and off. Sometime around one, he and Qrow both fell asleep on the couch, James sprawled across it on his back and Qrow sprawled atop him, snuggled against his chest.

When James awoke, a little after three, Qrow was still curled up atop him, snuffling lightly. James smiled and stroked Qrow’s hair, his eyes soft as he took in Qrow, completely relaxed in sleep. He sighed softly, his chest warm. After a moment, Qrow’s eyes fluttered open and he squinted at James, face scrunched in sleep-induced confusion.

“Whu?” he said. The low, scratchy sounds of sleep voice made James’ smile widen, his eyes still soft.

“Looks like we passed out,” said James, just barely above a whisper.

Qrow nodded, face slack and eyes half closed. “Mmm. Looks like.” He brought up his arms, still folded, and rested his cheek on them on James’ chest. “Don’t suppose you missed anything important?”

“I have a conference call at four, so I should shower,” said James. “But other than that, no.”

Qrow blinked, slow and lazy. His voice was getting more alert, picking up the cheek that James had come to love over the last few years. “Damn, not enough time for anything fun.”

James laughed, soft and gentle. “Tonight,” he promised. “After the statement.”

“Holdin’ you to it,” said Qrow. He peeled himself off James, stretching, cat-like, as he stood. Arms above his head and up on his toes, shirt lifting to reveal a thin line of pale skin that drew James’ eye.

“You sure?” asked Qrow, looking back at James, his voice teasing.

James snorted and sat up, swinging his legs off the couch as he stretched. “Positive,” he said. “Later.”

“Mm-hmm,” said Qrow, a twinkle in his eye. James rolled his eyes and stood, taking a moment to smack Qrow’s ass – which got a “hey!” – before he headed for the shower.

* * *

 

The meeting went well, and James managed to avoid the awkward questions about his typo by artfully ignoring the questions and redirecting interest, and by the time it was wrapping up, it was time for the evening news.

James sat down on the couch, Qrow tucked into his side, and waited for his corrective statement to be issued. Tilting his head back, Qrow smirked at him.

“Do you think you got it right, this time?” he asked, a light in his eyes.

James snorted. “With any luck,” he said, drily, wrapping an arm around Qrow.

“ _General James Ironwood has issued a corrective statement about the story run last night,”_ said the reporter, checking her scroll. _“He would like to correct that his name is still James Ironwood, as he and Qrow Branwen are not yet married.”_ There was a pause. A long, long pause. Then the reporter next to her spoke up.

_“Yet?”_ echoed the reporter. _“When’s the wedding?”_

The first reporter checked the scroll. _“We have no further statement from James Ironwood.”_

James groaned as they switched stories, Qrow already cackling loudly.

“Yet?” echoed Qrow. “You had to say _yet_?” He grinned up at James.

James leaned back on the couch, covering his face with his free, right hand. Had he really just screwed up another statement? That one wasn’t as bad, obviously, but he’d still created yet another question that would circle Atlas for the evening.

Qrow flicked his cheek and James lowered his hand to look at Qrow.

“You should probably send another statement,” said Qrow, drily. “Let ‘em know we have no clue when we’re actually hunting down a minister and shit.”

James nodded. “I should,” he agreed. “But, I do remember promising something to you, earlier.”

Qrow grinned and clambered into his lap, arms draped around James’ shoulders. “You did,” agreed Qrow, and he leaned in and kissed James.

* * *

 

The next evening, after James spent the day fielding congratulations for his engagement and questions about when the wedding was going to be – and if so and so was going to be invited – he got home to Qrow making dinner, again, which was always a treat.

“Have I successfully domesticated you?” asked James, peeling off his greatcoat and hanging it up.

Qrow snorted from the kitchen. “Like it was hard,” he threw back. James felt his chest warm at that and a smile spread across his face. He slipped into the kitchen and wound his arms around Qrow’s waist, pressing a kiss to Qrow’s neck.

“Mmm, someone’s happy,” quipped Qrow, tilting his neck so James could keep peppering kisses. He was stirring some cheesy pasta contraption that smelled divine after a day of muffins and black coffee.

“The final statement goes up tonight,” said James against Qrow’s throat. “After that, everything goes back to normal.”

Qrow chuckled and looked up at James, smiling. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Oh?” asked James, furrowing his brow.

Qrow nudged him with his elbow. “We got a wedding to plan, Jimbo. That’s a circus unto itself.”

James laughed and kissed Qrow’s cheek. “Indeed we do,” he agreed, unable to drag the giddy grin off his face. “I think it’ll be fun.”

With a snort, Qrow shook his head. “Trust me, I’ve been in a wedding, they’re chaos in lacy pastels.”

“Mm, I still think I’ll enjoy it,” said James.

“How do you figure?”

“Because it’ll be our wedding,” said James.

Qrow was silent for a moment, then he chuckled, a blush working its way across his nose and cheekbones. “Fair enough.”

Dinner was a normal affair – the two of them tossing ideas back and forth for one of James’ new tilt-jet designs. The older ones were nice, if a bit gaudy, and he was looking to improve the armour on the underbellies, which were currently an unfortunate weak point.

Qrow had some great ideas that James jotted down, and before long, they were headed to the living room to listen to James’ third – and hopefully _final_ – statement regarding their relationship.

_“A third statement comes from General Ironwood today,”_ said the reporter, sounding amused. _“He would like the people of Atlas to know that he is engaged to Qrow Branwen, but they do not currently have a wedding date planned. In other news…”_

James clicked off the television and sighed, leaning back on the couch.

“Took you three tries,” said Qrow. “But you got it right.”

James shook his head. “I’m the laughing stock of Atlas, even the _reporters_ are making fun of me. On _live television_ , Qrow.”

Qrow laughed. “Ah, come on. It humanizes you!” he said, shoving at James’ shoulder. “They like to know their general is just as soft hearted as the rest of them.”

A small worked its way onto James’ face. “You really think this will humanize me to them?”

“I do,” said Qrow, seriously. “Jim, you ain’t heartless, and too many people think you are. It’s about damn time at least your own people know you’re just as squishy as any other man – especially one so _horrifically_ in love as you are.” The teasing returned to Qrow’s words on the last few words and James snorted. “Still can’t believe you signed a statement ‘James Branwen’ though. Why the name change anyway?”

James hesitated. Then, very quietly, he said, “The world has had few too many Branwens for too long.”

Qrow stared up at him from next to him on the couch, eyes soft.  Then, “Yeah, it has.” The two smiled at each other, and James drew Qrow into a lingering kiss, already spinning wedding plans through his ever-working mind.


End file.
